


Kissy Kissy Barn

by niki_awae



Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe, Anne and Gilbert, Anne reads Gilbert's letter, Anne with an E - Freeform, F/M, First Kiss, First Love, Gilbert reads Anne's letter, Kissing in the Rain, Letter, Letters, Love Letters, awae, barn kiss, hay, kiss in the barn, rain kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23751733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niki_awae/pseuds/niki_awae
Summary: It's a rainy night when Gilbert receives his love letter from Anne.First kisses, torn letters.A romp in the hay, the rain pitter-patters,And in the twilight,Two lovers unite-------A reimagination of what might have been if Gilbert had read Anne's letter on time.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe & Sebastian "Bash" Lacroix, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley, Marilla Cuthbert & Anne Shirley, Marilla Cuthbert & Matthew Cuthbert & Anne Shirley, Matthew Cuthbert & Anne Shirley
Comments: 66
Kudos: 332





	1. The Odd Bridge That Linked Day To Night

**Author's Note:**

> We all know the turn of events after Gilbert doesn't receive Anne's letter. But have you wondered what might have been if he'd read her letter on time?
> 
> The events in this story take place mid-way in episode 9, season 3. 
> 
> This is a joint collaboration with the amazing artist, Joss (@jossrezz on twitter and instagram). Her wonderful artwork gives life to this story and sets the mood perfectly. 
> 
> The story will be updated frequently, with the artwork acting as the perfect accompaniment.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stared up at the sky, now a cool purple marred by some ominous dark clouds. He'd always disliked this part of the day, the odd bridge that linked day to night. Dusk was not a time he was particularly fond of. What good could come out of something that was ending?
> 
> Yet, for the first time, he realized that while the day might have ended, the night was only beginning

Gilbert trudged back home, his legs weary but his heart light.

He'd spent the better part of his day wandering the pathways of Avonlea, as if marking his spot with every step, with every breath. He had to admit that a certain red-headed girl had dominated his thoughts the entire day.

He'd seen her as he helped clear up what little remained of the schoolhouse with the rest of the boys. Seen her taunting smile as she raised her hand up to answer a question before him. Seen her eyebrows turn downwards in anger as he procured one mark more than her.

He'd also wandered amidst the forest, taking in the sights and sounds around him. He hadn't the slightest clue where his future would lead him, and so he wanted to make sure he had memories of Avonlea to keep him company. Yet there, as he stood in the center of what was once a sacred story club, Gilbert only had memories of her. He'd heard her sharp intake of breath as she gasped excitedly when a new idea took form in her mind. He'd heard the scratches of her pen as she quickly jotted down her fervent thoughts.

And then, as the day neared to an end, he stood at the clifftop overlooking the vast expanse of the sea in front of him. Yet he hadn't felt the sea breeze rustle the curls at the back of his head, hadn't felt the blaze of the sun, warming his stressed self. Instead, he'd felt her. Felt her hand in his, delicate and small, as he spun her around to the tune of the Dashing White Sergeant. Felt her eyes bore into his as her inquisitive mind questioned him about the latest medical breakthrough.

And that's when he knew. If his mind ran in circles around just one girl. If his very senses sensed only memories of just one girl. If his heart never leaped unless just one girl was in front of him, what was he thinking asking for the hand of another?

Anne, his Anne with an E, was the only one for him. It always had been and always would be Anne.

Now, as he slowly walked back home, the sun having winked its last light a few minutes prior, he wondered what he ought to do next. He'd already penned his letter to Anne earlier, as he sat overlooking a group of young children play at the shoreline. He knew what he wanted to tell her yet hesitated on whether to act on it. He still couldn't forget the look on her face that night at the bonfire. How he'd left her at a loss for words and how she'd tried hard to let him down easy.

As he ambled along the pathway to his house, he kicked a loose stone in frustration. A small, nagging part of him worried that maybe he hadn't understood her correctly that night. That perhaps her speechlessness was due to a pleasant surprise rather than an unpleasant shock.

He stared up at the sky, now a cool purple marred by some ominous dark clouds. He'd always disliked this part of the day, the odd bridge that linked day to night. Dusk was not a time he was particularly fond of. What good could come out of something that was ending?

Yet, for the first time, he realized that while the day might have ended, the night was only beginning.

Savoring his last few minutes of blissful silence, Gilbert quickened his pace. He could hear the Lacroixes having their daily argument, and he berated himself for not arriving home earlier. Usually, these heated discussions started a little later, with enough time for him to be safely placed in his room. With a soft chuckle, he wondered what would become of him once Delphine started to babble as well.

However, as he opened the front door, he was greeted with steamy silence. Bash sat at the kitchen table, forlornly staring off into space, a smiling Delly in his hands. Mrs. Lacroix sat near the back window, furiously attacking a piece of knitting.

"Uh, hello?" said Gilbert, hanging up his jacket and cap at the coat rack.

"Blythe," grunted Bash, looking up at him. "Good day to you! Where've you been all day, man?"

"I..was helping out at the old schoolhouse,' muttered Gilbert, going to pick up Delly. "And how have you been, young lady?" He tickled her under her chin, the sounds of a delighted Delly filling the kitchen.

"Going mad with her grandmother's ramblings, I'm sure," said Bash.

"Oh, is that it?" Mrs. Lacroix set down her knitting with force. "I'm the bad one now?"

With a sigh, Bash raised his arms. "Please, I surrender. I cannot do more of this tonight."

Mrs. Lacroix huffed, coming towards Gilbert. "Mr. Blythe, can I set the table for you?"

"Please call me Gilbert," he said with a smile, placing Delly in her high chair. "And no, that's fine. Have you all eaten already? If so, I can take my dinner up to my room."

Bash pushed back his chair and stood up with a sigh. "No, and I don't plan to. I'm going to take Delly for a walk. Gilbert, I'll speak with you later." Without another word, he picked up his daughter and left through the backdoor.

Gilbert stared quizzically at his now empty spot. "He seems very angry today." He looked at Mrs. Lacroix, a small smile on his face. "Must have been one hell of a fight."

"This is nothing. That boy needs a nice whack on his head, is what he needs," she said, shaking her head. She made to head out of the room, backtracking at the last moment. "Oh," she turned around, removing a note placed under the vase on the table. "This is for you, Mr. Blythe."

"Me?" He looked down to find his name elegantly written on a small piece of paper. He slowly took the paper from her hand, the beat of his heart suddenly increasing in tempo. He had a similar note tucked into his pocket at that very moment, but he dared not hope. "Who is it from?"

"A young girl came by this afternoon. Said her name was...Anne? She seemed to know you and Bash," she said. "Was quite familiar with the house, actually." When Gilbert kept silent, she continued. "Wait, Mr. Blythe, you do know her, right? Oh, I hope she wasn't a vagabond. She did seem a bit odd...but she was also very kind. Mr. Blythe? Mr. Blythe, are you alright?"

Though it appeared that Mr. Blythe wasn't quite alright. He held the piece of paper with a grip so tight, Mrs. Lacroix was sure he would tear it.

_Dear Gilbert,_

For the next few minutes, Gilbert's increased breathing was the only sound in the room.

"I have to go," said Gilbert. "I--I need to see her."

Mrs. Lacroix, for the very first time, was at a loss for words. What in heavens was in that note, she wondered.

_Pen? She wants her pen back when she's stolen my heart?_

Gilbert stood at the kitchen table, clutching the note in his hand. Was it possible? Were the words in his palm thoughts from Anne?

The words before him swam in his head, his face flushed hot, and he was sure he was in a state of delirium. Yet all he cared about was Anne, his Anne.

Before he could second guess himself or force himself to think things through, Gilbert ran out of the house. No, he needed to hear these words from Anne herself. He wouldn't believe it otherwise. Wouldn't dare.


	2. The Woman Who Coaxed Fire To Dance Around Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They held on to each other as lovers often do, secluded from the world, marooned on their island of two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Part 2!
> 
> This is a joint collaboration with the amazing artist, Joss (@jossrezz on Twitter and Instagram). Her wonderful artwork gives life to this story and sets the mood perfectly.
> 
> Sorry for the long wait, but we hope you like it!

He patted his pockets. There it was. Safe. He may not have Anne's flair for words, but he did have emotion. And emotion it was that he had poured out in his letter for Anne. He wondered who had written their message first. Or maybe they had written it at the same time, their hearts connected by a fervent need to proclaim their love. Whatever the case, Gilbert's mind was a flurry of panic as he ran to Green Gables at an alarming pace.

The weather certainly didn't match Gilbert's elated mood, but he cared not for it. As thunder rumbled in the background, it was almost loud enough to overshadow his thundering heartbeats. Almost, but not quite.

As he neared Green Gables, he slowed down. He was sure he would combust with the nerves wracking his body. He thought of the medical fact he had studied recently. That of the human body being made up of 70% water. He mentally scoffed, for it felt like his body was 100% electricity at that moment.

He finally made it through the gates and taking two steps at a time, he bounded up the path towards the house. He cared not for the treacherous ground beneath him, now a mixture of water and mud threatening to hurt him. He cared not for his treacherous heart, now beating at a rapid pace, threatening to give up on him.

That's when he heard the soft tinkle of Anne's voice just a little way off. Yes, it had started to rain, the drizzle now a storm. Yes, the thunder was loud, decibels rising each second. But if Gilbert could hear Anne's voice in the middle of the ocean as he raked coal on a steamship, he could certainly hear her amidst a rainstorm. He switched courses and ran towards the barn house as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did.

Before he could control his labored breathing, he caught sight of a frazzled Anne. She stood by the entrance of the barn, her hair barely held by her plait, glaring up at the sky above her.

Anne was, for the most part of the day, a nervous wreck. After her trip to Gilbert's house and the subsequent note she'd quickly penned to him, she'd spent the rest of the day vexing Marilla with her incessant questions.

"But Marilla, what if he doesn't read the note? Maybe a sudden gush of wind makes it fly outside, and then it's left crumpled near a bed of roses in the mud. Oh, how tragical would that be? I can almost picture it," she said, her voice growing quiet. "Lying there, trampled on, dirty, torn..."

"Anne Shirley Cuthbert! Pull yourself together, child. Gilbert will very well receive the note and read it. Give him time."

"But Marilla, what if the ink smudges? In my hurry, I'm sure I didn't leave it alone to dry long enough, and now the note may just be gibberish with ink smears!"

After a few more rounds of her questions, Marilla had banished Anne to the barn house. "A distraction is what you need, and the barn needs a good dusting down, Anne."

"But Marilla, what if--"

"No, ifs or buts. There are bunches of hay that need to be transferred to the second floor of the barn and baled. I don't want it to get wet because of the rain."

Now, Anne was paying heed to Marilla's instructions and was busy raking the dreadful hay. Her mind was a churning mess of thoughts and emotions, and this mundane task did anything but distract her from her worries. Throwing down her rake in frustration, Anne decided it was time to call it a day. Gilbert hadn't bothered to respond to her note, and she didn't want to spend another moment in futile anticipation.

The weather was certainly not in her favor, and she could hear the first drops of rain splatter on the ground outside. Concluding that she'd risk the rain in the hopes of reaching the house before it started to pour, she dashed out of the barn. Yet, she stopped short when the sky indeed opened up and rained down on her, drenching her within seconds

"Of all days!" Anne yelled out, her contempt directed at the clouds above. She was sure this was a personal insult, the sky making a mockery of her and her stupid heart.

It was then just as she was ready to add in her own tears to the rain, she glanced to the side to find Gilbert Blythe walking up the path towards her.

If disheveled had a persona, then it would belong to Gilbert at this moment. His cap sat an angle over his wet curls, almost hiding his expression. Yet even through the curtain of the fast-falling rain, Anne could see his eyes wide open, eyebrows up in wonder. His chest moved quickly, and if it was in tiredness or shock, Anne would soon find out.

"Gilbert?" her soft voice called out in disbelief. Was this boy, once her arch-enemy but now the star of her dreams, really here? Suddenly self-conscious, she tried to pat down her hair, forgetting her dirt-stained hands. "Are you alright?"

"Anne," he cleared his throat. "I...um, I have..." He let out a breath. "Here's...something for you."

He held out a piece of paper, and the blood rushed to Anne's face. She was sure her face had turned to a shade similar to her hair, and her heart beat in tandem to her rising breaths. A roaring sound filled her ears, but she was sure it wasn't the thunder in the background.

Wiping down her hands on her dress, she took hold of the paper. "Sure." Though the rain beat down hard on the pair, they paid no heed to it, instead focused on one another.

With trembling fingers, she opened up the letter to reveal Gilbert's flowing script.

_Dear Anne,_

Gilbert stared at her intently, drinking in her appearance. This was the fiery Anne that had caught his attention all those years ago in the woods. That young girl who, even in the clutches of the devil, had stood her ground. This was the young lady who'd written to him as he sailed a lonely journey in the middle of the ocean, acting as his lifeline when he roamed the tropicals. This was the woman who'd been rendered drunk by moonshine, citing tales of plunder as she coaxed fire to dance around her. This was the woman he'd fallen in love with. Little did he know that instead of him slaying dragons, Anne had gone and slain his heart right from the start.

Anne could barely see the letters on the page, for her eyes were filled to the brim with tears, and her hands would not stop shaking. She could hardly believe what was in front of her. Before she realized it, her tears and the rain mingled, turning the page into a river of ink.

"Gilbert, I-" She stared at him, the rain now falling down at a steady pace. Yet Anne was certainly not steady. Her world had lost balance, and she was falling. Falling so frightfully, so beautifully, so pleasantly, that she knew, instead, that she was flying.

"It always has been, and always will be you...Anne." Slowly, he grasped both her hands, almost as if in reverence. "My Anne with an E."

"Gilbert..."

Anne kept replaying the letter in her head. _Fond object of my affection and desire. Keeper of the key to my heart._ If Gilbert hadn't personally come and delivered his letter, Anne would never have believed him to be the author. The message went above and beyond her wildest imaginations, and her childish fantasies of romance were rendered obsolete with just these few lines.

"I...This is the most beautiful letter I've ever received." She held back a sob.

"Yet," whispered Gilbert. "I wrote it last night and meant to give it to you this morning." A small smile played on his lips. "But it seems like you beat me to it."

Anne shook her head in amazement. His letter, with words strung together so eloquently, so thoughtfully that it bared his heart out on a piece of parchment, dwarfed her own hastily scribed note.

He held her hands up to his lips, gingerly kissing it, hesitant, unsure. "I have to ask, Anne. Is it true? Do you truly have feelings for me?"

Anne clutched his hands tighter. For all her words and theatrics, Gilbert had left her speechless, stealing her breath away for the second time in a matter of days. Once at the bonfire and now. She wondered how long it would take for him to leave her mute with his beautiful words. All she could do was nod her agreement before pulling him in for a hug.

As the rain now poured down on the young couple, they stood in silence, hardly daring to breathe. Years of stares and yearning, of hidden looks and suppressed feelings, had built up to this moment, and neither of them wanted to let go of the other.

They held on to each other as lovers often do, secluded from the world, marooned on their island of two.

"It's raining, Gilbert," Anne said, her voice muffled by his shoulder. Her arms were wound tightly around his waist, mimicking the way ivy often wound its way along a trellis.

"Is it?" whispered Gilbert, his voice tickling her ear. He held on to her tighter. "I didn't notice."

Pulling free with a laugh, Anne motioned towards the barn. "We can take cover there."

The pair ran, their steps seeming lighter and free.

And as the couple sought shelter, a certain set of keen eyes followed suit. Marilla watched them from the kitchen window, a small smile playing on her lips. To the naked eye, the two were almost invisible what with the setting sun and steady rain, yet to a mother's eye, they were very visible indeed. With a soft sigh, Marilla returned to baking her plum puffs, distant memories of another Cuthbert girl and Blythe boy her only company.

Just as they reached the entrance, Gilbert took hold of Anne's hand and turned her to face him. Before she could utter a word, he pulled her closer, their faces mere inches away. Anne could see small droplets of water gathered on his eyelashes. Could see a droplet slide down the curve of his cheekbones. Could see his lips part open in wonder.

She slowly took a step back but didn't let go of him. He followed her, intently staring, almost as if he were counting her freckles. Before she knew it, her back hit the barn door.

The rough wood of the door scratched her back, but Anne could hardly feel it. Not when she could feel his chest rise to meet hers whenever he took a breath in. Not when she could feel his warmth envelope her like a hot summer's day despite the freezing wind. Not when she could feel her wildest dreams come true.

Gilbert cocked his head to the side. "I'm going to kiss you now, Anne." He came closer, his breath hot on her lips. His eyes roamed her face, his intense gaze never wavering.

Anne kept silent. Instead, she placed her hand on his chest, feeling his strong heartbeats. _One. two._ Her hand curled around his shirt, drawing him nearer to her. _Three_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH 
> 
> Yes, I know this is a slow burn but aren't those stories the best? :D Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading! 
> 
> Every time Joss shows me a new frame, she takes my breath away. It's like she can read my mind and draw exactly what I'm imagining.
> 
> Find me on twitter (@niki_awae) and Joss on IG and twitter (@jossrezz)


	3. The Art of Carrot Cultivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The air was ripe with the pleasant smell of petrichor, yet Anne could only breathe in the intoxication that was Gilbert Blythe.

  


Their lips met in unison, not an inch between them.

Anne should've been cold from the rain. But instead, she felt as if she were on fire. A fire that ignited as soon as their lips touched, traveling all along her body, threatening to consume her entire being.

Pressed so close to Gilbert, she could feel his heart beat to the same tune hers sang. She gripped the front of his shirt, her other hand moving to the back of his neck, savoring the feel of his curls.

Gilbert tightened his arm around her waist, stroking his thumb along her cheek. They were kissing with a passion so foreign to either of them, yet they learned their parts flawlessly. Slow and intense, they kissed languidly against the barn door, lost in the senses of one another.

The air was ripe with the pleasant smell of petrichor, yet Anne could only breathe in the intoxication that was Gilbert Blythe. She'd wondered once why the idea of two lips meeting had caused so many to lose their minds in the name of desire. Yet now, in the arms of the boy she knew was the one, Anne wondered why people didn't practice the art of kissing more frequently. Surely kisses needed to be celebrated for it brought upon so much delight. Anne's heart was full. Full of wonder, full of joy. Full of love for this boy.

With a sigh, Gilbert finally pulled back, his thumb continuing to draw lazy circles on her cheek. He stared at her with a depth that Anne realized wasn't unknown to her. She'd seen it several times over the years. Seen the way his eyes darkened a tad, crinkles forming at the sides. Seen the way his eyebrows raised up slightly, furrowed at the beginning. With a start, Anne realized what his gaze meant. _Heart eyes_. Ruby had mentioned it, yet Anne had always experienced it.

"Anne."

"Gilbert." She'd meant to say it in the same earnest way he'd said her name, yet she ended it with a slight giggle. Heady and confused, Anne couldn't understand what was happening.

_Gilbert Blythe just kissed me. Gilbert Blythe just kissed me, and I kissed him back!_

He returned her giggle with one of his own, and with visible relief, he rested his forehead against hers. "I can't believe this is actually happening."

"Neither can I," whispered Anne. "This doesn't feel real."

"Oh, but it is, my Anne. It is." He placed a soft kiss on her nose. "These emotions that course within me can't be replicated by my bland imagination. No, these feelings are real, and I welcome it."

Anne smiled, uncurling her hand around his shirt and reaching up to smooth away the curls resting against his forehead. "I must say, I have no doubt on the extent of my imagination but this? This is real."

Slowly, as if against his will, Gilbert let go of her, sliding his hand down to grip hers. "Now we can head inside," grinned Gilbert, tugging her into the comfort of the barn.

She trailed after, not daring to take her eyes off him.

"It looks like it's going to rain the whole night," said Gilbert, giving her a sweet smile. "It might be a while."

"I don't mind. Do you?" She giggled once again.

"I never mind spending time with you, Anne. In fact, I couldn't see better use of my time. It's all I've ever wanted."

She grinned at him widely, unable to contain her happiness. She didn't understand the comedic aspect of their situation, yet she felt like laughing without inhibition, her thoughts clouded by joy and relief.

Straying further into the barn, she spotted a few bales of hay stacked against the wall that would make do for their respite. As she neared the haystacks, she heard Gilbert behind her.

"Wait!" he rushed forward, going to remove his vest.

Anne crinkled her eyebrows in confusion. "What are you..."

"There," said Gilbert, placing his vest across the stack and presenting his alternative seating arrangements for her. "This will be a lot more comfortable." He smoothed the jacket over the hay, beckoning Anne to sit.

However, if Gilbert expected her thanks, he'd undoubtedly have to wait for Anne's mind was...preoccupied.

Free of the constraints of the vest, Anne could see that the white shirt Gilbert had worn underneath was soaked through, plastered to the planes of his body. Anne realized that somewhere along the way, amidst the preparations for the entrance exams and the farm work he often did, unbeknownst to her, Gilbert had transformed from a boy into a young man. Both in mind and body. And now it was her turn to unwillingly drag her gaze away from his form and face ahead, moving to sit down in a daze.

  


  


"You know, when I read your note, I was taken by surprise," said Gilbert, sitting down beside her. "I could only dream that you'd reciproca--"

"My note!" Anne interrupted, turning to face him. She'd lain back down, staring at the rafters above her but Gilbert's words had brought her back to reality. "You read it."

"I did. Bash's mother gave it to me as soon as I got back home." He looked down at her, marveling at the way her eyes widened at his words.

She stared at him, suddenly shy. "I meant every word I wrote," she said in earnest. 

"I know now. When I first read it, I thought it was a cruel joke."

"That's preposterous! Why would you think that?" she said, exasperatedly, sitting up. "I'd never be so cruel to you, Gilbert!"

"Not intentionally, you wouldn't." He gave a rueful shake of his head. 

"What is that supposed to mean?" Anne narrowed her eyes. 

"Well, at the bonfire--"

"That doesn't count! You completely took me by surprise," said Anne, her voice rising with every word. "Plus, I was clearly inebriated. You can't hold that against me!"

"The way you reacted wasn't exactly positive." He shrugged. "I didn't know what to make of it."

"So, you assumed the worst?" fumed Anne. "I just needed time and some clarity...Why are you smiling, Gilbert Blythe? This is no laughing matter!"

But her words only caused Gilbert to grin wider. "You're awfully adorable when you're vexed."

Anne shot him an incredulous look, going back to her original position of rest. "I am not! That's ridiculous." 

"You are," said Gilbert, angling his body to lean over her. "When you get angry, your forehead wrinkles up right here." He ran his fingers across the middle of her forehead. "And your lips...they pucker up," he pressed his finger to the corner of her mouth, "right here."

Fighting back a smile, she questioned him, "Is that why you called me carrots all those years ago? To see me cross?"

"Well, that was part of the reason, yes. Though I still can't fathom why you were so insulted with the word."

"Carrots, Gilbert? Really?" In mock outrage, she held up a lock of her hair. 

He took hold of the hair, twirling it around his finger. "Yes. Carrots. They're one of the most resilient root vegetables, growing underground against all the odds." He raised his eyebrows. "They thrive in environments surrounded by other plants, able to withstand several adversities. They offer support to other companion vegetables, attracting wasps to get rid of pesky garden pests." His voice lowered. "They're strong. They're vibrant. They offer so much to the world." He let go of her hair, instead, running a gentle finger down her face. "Of course, you are my carrots, Anne."

Anne only stared at him in silence, letting out her breath in amazement. "You indeed are a poet in the disguise of a farm boy, Gil. Are you sure medicine is your calling?"

He smiled, leaning in ever so slightly closer to her. "I suppose I can practice my poetry on you?"

"I'd like that very much," said Anne, worried she may burst with the feelings of delight coursing through her. "Your note was a stellar example of your talents. Oh! Your letter! It's..it's destroyed now," she said in dismay. "Tell me you'll write me another one."

"Why write," he placed his hand along the curve of her waist, "when I can say it to you instead?"

"Spoken words are beautiful but written words...Oh, written words I hold close to my heart," said Anne, her voice growing quieter. 

He gave her a little squeeze. "Then, a letter is what you shall receive, my Anne."

"But, I want the exact same note, Gilbert." Anne raised her eyebrows playfully. "Word for word. As you may very well know, I have an impeccable memory."

"Hmm, that you do have. And what trouble it has caused me," He smiled down at her. "But I believe you need to jog my memory a bit." He leaned down, his lips settling at the corner of her mouth. "There's a certain redhead who has caused my mind to go disarray and my heart to lose its rhythm."

Moving her body closer to him, she reached up to cup his cheek, running her thumb across his jaw. She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, going to do the same on the other. Next, she paid attention to his forehead, placing tiny kisses down his eyebrows, nose, and finally, she landed on his lips. 

This time when their lips met, familiarity followed suit. Gone was the hesitation and nervous energy, replaced with a fervent need to express their feelings through actions. It was as if within these four walls of confinement, they had been finally set free, enabling themselves to explore one another with no qualms. As if taking their academic competitiveness into their private moment, their lips fought together, each one desiring more of the other.

  


  


Anne found both her hands around Gilbert's neck, and she pressed further into him, a sense of urgency guiding her. She couldn't feel the hay biting through her dress, couldn't smell the barn odor, couldn't hear the rain picking up pace. All she could sense was Gilbert. Gilbert winding his arms around her waist, deepening the kiss. Gilbert trailing kisses across her jaw, slowly moving down her neck. Gilbert looking at her, his eyes twinkling with happiness and desire. And she would never tire of him.

He smiled, pushing aside a stray piece of hair that had fallen across her forehead. After all these years of staring at her, of wishing just once that she'd turn back to look at him, here they were in the arms of one another. He wondered if he was dreaming but then realized he wasn't very imaginative. He could never have imagined the way Anne's lips felt on his, how they fit together like a puzzle. He could never have imagined the way his heart would try to break free with happiness every time he neared Anne. He could never have imagined the feel of Anne's hair between his fingers as he drew her in closer for a deeper kiss. Could never have imagined her fingers running through his curls. No. This was real. This was true. 

Caught in the moment, oblivious to the thundering rain and howling wind, it was Belle's loud neigh that finally broke their reverie. 

"Neigh!" Belle whined, unaware of the wide-eyed couple staring at one another mere meters away.

  


  


"Belle!" Anne said breathlessly, startling a dazed Gilbert. Gently nudging Gilbert, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, running her hands through her hair. Gilbert cleared his throat, sliding his hands down his face as if trying to awake from a deep slumber. 

Peeking at him from the corner of her eye, Anne shot him a tiny smile. She was rewarded with an awe-struck look, splotches of red quickly marring his cheeks. Gilbert was _blushing_. Anne realized that while she loved every aspect of him, a flushed and embarrassed Gilbert that highlighted his boyish nature was her favorite.

Slowly, she stood up, dusting strands of hay from her skirts. "We should head back, Gil. Marilla must be looking for me."

Nodding, Gilbert stood as well, the twinkle in his eyes never disappearing. Anne stared at him. The boy she'd whacked with a slate. The boy she'd academically competed with. The man she had just kissed. The man who had stolen her heart.

She giggled at the sight before her. Clueless Gilbert with a headful of hay. She reached up to dust the hay off, marveling at his curls. While he did indeed have a splendid chin, his curls were a work of art. She'd often wondered how soft they were, and today she'd had a chance to find out. And indeed. They were soft. Soft and fluffy and wonderful.

As she continued contemplating the extent of his curls' softness, they headed outside again. It was still raining but had now reduced to a soft drizzle. The sun had winked its last light a few minutes prior, and the distant glow of the house acted as their guiding light as they slowly made their way over.

They held hands as they ambled along the path, occasionally glancing at each other with a smile. Anne's cheeks reddened as she thought about what had happened in the barn. She certainly wasn't ashamed, yet if word got around, especially to Mrs. Lynde, she wondered what would become of her. As it was, Belle wasn't one to gossip, and often kept to herself. Though Anne had no doubt that Mrs. Lynde, if given a chance, could even get a horse to speak a word or two.

Midway through, Anne stopped in her tracks. "Wait, Gilbert! A puddle!" Without hesitation, hiking up the folds of her skirt, she jumped into the center of it, creating a large splash. Letting out a loud giggle, she continued to find the small water bodies, her tinkling laugh, and splashes of water the only sound. 

Instead of joining in, Gilbert stared at her in appreciation. Carefree, wild, loving, passionate. This was Anne. His Anne. Mine.

He slowly walked beside her, appreciating her beauty as she sought puddle after puddle.

  


  


"Oh Gilbert, don't be a bore. Join in!" she said, beckoning him over.

He held up his hands in protest. "I'm fine, Anne!" He smiled. "The view is better from here, anyway."

Shooting him an impish grin, she kicked out suddenly, showering Gilbert with droplets of rainwater.

"That's not fair!" exclaimed Gilbert, wiping his face with his shirt sleeve with a smile. After a pause, he said, "You know...you remind me of Pirate Anne here."

" _Pirate_ Anne?" Satisfied with her puddle hunt, she joined Gilbert as they continued walking. 

"Yes. A very drunk Anne." He shot her a smirk. "Ahoy, Matey!" he said, impersonating a pirate, moving his fist up in the air.

Anne huffed. "Oh, not this again. I'll have you know that I've decided to block out that entire night." She held her head high. "I don't remember."

"Oh, really?" he said, raising his eyebrows. "What about that time you admitted to being a pirate. I'm...pirate? Yup, that's what you said." He teased. "Do you remember that?"

She rolled her eyes. "As you said, I was intoxicated." When he continued to smirk at her, she continued. "But, I do remember when you gave me all of ten seconds to decide on not only my future but to consider yours as well!" She was still sore about that night of the bonfire and needed to vent out her frustration. 

"Mine?" asked Gilbert in surprise.

"Well, of course! Your aspirations of becoming more than a country doctor? The Sorbonne is your dream school! I couldn't be so selfish as to steal those choices away from you, Gil." She let out a deep breath. "I don't want to be a burden or...or a choice that you regret making. I--"

"Anne!" said Gilbert. He stopped, turning to face her, all traces of playfulness gone. "You were never a choice for me! There was no choice. It always has been you." His voice rose in desperation. "The Sorbonne? Paris? Those can wait. _Those_ are choices. But you? You're my destiny, and I was foolish to think even once that I could have anybody else in my heart." He took a deep breath, his eyes boring into hers. "You're not a burden, Anne. I will never regret you!"

Anne's heart soared at this proclamation. There was a small part of her that had fretted ever since she'd penned him her letter over the fact that Gilbert may come to resent her in time. Now, hearing the words spoken in truth, she breathed a sigh of relief. 

He took her hand in his, placing his other over it. "Anne Shirley-Cuthbert," he glanced up at her, "I love you. I have loved you, and I will continue to love you even after my last breath. I am as sure of it as I am sure that the sun will rise tomorrow."

Anne didn't know what to make of her emotions. Her brain was a muddle of thoughts, and the only thing keeping her from flying far away into blissful oblivion was Gilbert's firm grip on her hand, anchoring her to this beautiful reality. 

"Gilbert Blythe..." she breathed out, taking a step closer to him. "I love you." She looked at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I've loved you since that stupid spelling bee. Since you forgot to add that darned E." She sniffed. "I think I even loved you when I slammed that slate over your head!" She let out a small laugh, crying now. Gilbert smiled back, nodding his head in remembrance. "I've loved you since the time you offered to help me with keeping Green Gables. I've loved you since the time you left me to sail the vast oceans. I've loved you since the time you stood up for me in front of our classmates. Gil..." She tried to wipe away her falling tears, but Gilbert was quicker. He gently rubbed away her tears, watching her in rapt silence. "Gilbert, I've always loved you. I just...I just never acknowledged it. Every time I looked at you. Every time I heard you. I loved you. And that will never change. Oh, Gilbert!" She cupped his face with her free hand, running her thumb across his cheekbones. "I truly love you. I say that with absolute conviction because I've finally put a name to my feelings towards you. I say that because I finally _know_."

Shaking his head in amazement, Gilbert's eyes shone brightly. "You, Ms. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, have stolen my heart, and it's yours to keep."

"Forever and a day?" said Anne.

"Forever and two days," answered Gilbert, drawing her closer to him.

"I love you, Gilbert."

"I love you, Anne."

And then they were kissing. A kiss so soft, so passionate, so heartfelt that it stood as a promise of a beautiful future together. A testament of their love.

With a soft sigh, Gilbert pulled back, his hand still gripping hers. "I don't think I've ever been happier."

She smiled, her tears still falling. "Not even when we tied for first place in the entrance exams?"

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Not even then."

This time, as they continued to walk towards the house, Anne had her arm wrapped snugly around Gilbert's, resting her head on his shoulder. 

Arm in arm, they finally made it to the front porch steps, only to find a distraught Marilla waiting at the entrance. 

"Anne Shirley-Cuthbert! What is this behavior?"

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I know it's been quite a while since I last uploaded, but hopefully, this chapter makes up for it? <3 
> 
> As usual, the AMAZING artwork that literally always makes me cry is done by the super talented @jossrezz (on Twitter, and Instagram). Every time she sends me a frame, I proclaim it as being my favorite yet I'm floored when she presents me with the next! 
> 
> This chapter was extra special to Joss and me, and we hope you love this chapter as much as we do!
> 
> Until chapter 4...
> 
> Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> This is my first time trying my hand at fan fiction writing and I'm glad I did it for Anne Nation! 
> 
> This is a joint collaboration with the amazing artist, Joss (@jossrezz on Twitter and Instagram).
> 
> What started as a random crack conversation with Joss, turned into this ambitious project and we are so grateful to all of you! 
> 
> My twitter handle is @niki_awae if you want to chat :)
> 
> We will update you'll via twitter when we release the next part!


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